Shots Fired
by worldtravellingfly
Summary: Dripping anguish. *AU* following the first season's finale.


Summary: Dripping anguish. AU following the first season's finale.

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 _Rizzoli and Isles_ does not belong to me. No copyright infringement intended.

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-1-

* * *

"Lieutenant Colonel Jones!" The CO's voice rang out over the general din of a military base.

Casey tried not to let his expression change from the cool mask of professionalism he had been wearing until this moment, discussing an upcoming mission with his team.

They stood, one of them clapping his shoulder on their way to the cafeteria. Or the barracks.

Casey didn't notice which of them it was.

"A private word, Jones?"

He nodded, following the CO to his office. It didn't get any more private than that.

Dread was creeping up on Casey. He _knew_ something was wrong, just by the expression on the CO's face. That special brand of pity _screamed_ that something had happened back home.

Oh Lord, he hoped Jane was alright. Anyone, but Jane. Please.

The CO closed the door behind them, another bad sign.

"Take a seat, Jones."

Casey swallowed the bile wanting to force its way up his throat and did as he was ordered. Suppressing the urge to squirm in the uncomfortable chair, he swallowed again, waiting.

"I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but there has been an," the officer hesitated for a short moment, "incident back home."

The dread grew stronger.

"What sort of incident, sir?" Casey hardly dared to ask. While he wanted to know more, he was not sure he was ready to find out what exactly had happened. Not if it involved Jane.

"Detective Rizzoli was shot and is currently in surgery. When I got the call, her status was critical. You've been granted emergency leave. You've got a seat on a plane that leaves in an hour."

What was that ringing in his ears? His eyes flickered from the CO to the desk, then over to the sparsly decorated walls. Bile rose, climbing his throat, and for a moment Casey thought he'd embarrass himself in front of his CO.

The man was watching him intently.

"Dismissed, Lieutenant Colonel. Best of luck."

Casey saluted automatically, leaving the office while hardly aware of where he was going.

He had never wanted to to live this moment.

Numb, he stuffed his pack with his clothes and whatever personal effects he'd brought.

The last of those was a picture of Jane and him together, which had been hidden under his pillow.

"Casey, man, are you alright?" Emerson asked, standing only a few feet away from him. Within reach.

How had Casey not noticed his approach?

"I'm being flown out. Stateside. Jane..." Here, his voice trailed off. Casey had to swallow heavily, suppressing another bout of bile and tears. "Jane was shot."

"Shit, man. I'm sorry. She doin' okay?"

"Thanks, yeah, I don't know." Casey rubbed a hand over his hair. "She's in surgery."

"Let us know if you need anything, alright?" Emerson told him seriously, sympathy clear in his eyes.

"Yeah, sure. Thanks."

Emerson clapped his back, then left Casey to his thoughts.

* * *

oooo

* * *

Throughout the entire flight back to the States, Casey tried to not let on anything of his fears. It was enough that the flight crew was sending him those pathetic, pitiful looks every so often.

Nevertheless, he couldn't stop the subtle shaking of his hands, or hear much over the roaring in his ears. He tapped one foot impatiently, having crossed his legs earlier, unable to sit still.

Jane had been his rock ever since they were both eighteen and he'd gotten over his idiotic fear of her. She'd declared she'd protect him, in not so many words, when she figured out his home situation. And dragged him back to her parents' place.

Not that _that_ had amused her father overly much.

She had encouraged him whenever he needed a boost, because training had gotten to him at West Point.

And now she was in surgery. Critical. Whatever that meant, except, of course, in danger of dying. ( _He knew what it meant.)_

Dying. Jane.

This time, he couldn't stop the bile rising in his throat. Snagging one of those handy paper bags, he made use of them as intended.

Earning himself more pitying looks from the crew and the other passengers.

Casey knew that word travelled fast on base, but this was ridiculous.

Closing his eyes, he pretended he wasn't on board of this plane. No, he was back in Boston, in their cozy, tiny apartment. Jane wasn't in hospital, wasn't shot, but healthy and in bed with him. Holding him, as tightly as she dared.

The way she always did right after and before his deployments.

Casey would never admit it, not even under threat of death, but he loved being held by her. Feeling her body pressed close to his, so much so there was not enough space for anyone or anything else.

It was the most grounding thing after his tours.

He fingered the photo in his pocket and wondered if she would ever hold him like that again.

Oh, of course, he'd _rationally_ known that there was always a chance of Jane getting hurt on duty. Cops were shot and injured all the time. It was all over the news whenever it happened. And every single time he felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

If anything, Casey had always sort of assume that if either of them would die in the line of duty, if would be _him_.

But not even his worst nightmares could compare to his reality.

Water welled up behind his eyelids and Casey bit the inside of his cheek. The pain saving him from losing his composure completely in front of witnesses.

This flight couldn't land fast enough.

* * *

oooo

* * *

When it actually did, Casey was beyond exhausted. He had a crick in his neck from sitting in the same position for too long. One of his legs had fallen asleep, and was itching uncomfortably as blood flooded back into it.

At least he hadn't cried. Yet.

That would likely change as soon as he saw Jane. Was he even allowed to see her? Or would the doctors keep her confined in ICU, away from him?

Assuming she was still alive.

Casey straightened his shoulders. He would just have to sneak in and check on her then. Problem solved. Easy.

Korsak was waiting at the airport, dark bags under his eyes. He looked like death warmed over. Shoulders slumped, pale.

Not a good sign.

Instead of saying anything, Korsak hugged him. Tighter than strictly necessary, but Casey would take whatever comfort he could get right now.

"Come on. Do you have everything?"

In response, Casey just nodded. He wasn't sure he could say anything without his voice giving out. Not before he'd seen Jane for himself.

Korsak sighed, then led the way to where he'd parked the car.

They rode in silence. Neither of them looking at the other. Only the radio to fill the silence.

It was best that way.

Casey still hadn't managed to get his feelings under control. Or the fidgeting. In the end, he sat on his hands, staring out of the window at the passing city.

He had been gone for no more tahn three months. Three months. He wished he was back in Afghanistan, that there was no reason for him being sent back on the earliest plane home. That Jane would rant at him over Skype whenever they had the chance.

It was stupid and Casey knew it.

Eventually, Korsak pulled into a parking lot. He led the way to the entrance of the hospital, still silent.

If the situation wasn't so shitty, he wouldn't have believed that the old cop could actually be silent for such an extended period of time.

It was unnatural.

They didn't stop at the reception desk. Instead, Korsak walked passed the waiting room and the people boring holes into Casey's back with their stares.

He rubbed the back of his neck, wondering if he should have taken the time to change out of his uniform into civvies. But he pushed those thoughts away. He'd not wanted to waste time on something as useless as clothes, when Jane was...

Jane was injured. Life-threateningly.

He still couldn't believe it.

Mrs. Rizzoli, Angela, was pacing, wringing her hands or waving them at something unidentifiable.

A rather well-dressed woman sat calmly on one of those plastic chairs common to every med bay and hospital. She seemed to be off in her own world.

A second later, Casey remembered her. She was Jane's friend, the ME, Dr. Isles.

They hadn't had a chance to meet personally yet. His leave and Jane's cases had never allowed for it.

Sitting next to Dr. Isles, a younger man stared up at the ceiling as if it broadcasted all the secrets to having a happy life.

Before Casey could say or do anything, Korsak cleared his throat, drawing the attention of everyone.

Mrs. Rizzoli, Angela, flew over to his side, embracing him tightly.

Jane had inherited her mother's talent for hugs, apparently.

"Oh thank God, you're alright. You are, aren't you? How long can you stay?" Mrs. Rizzoli fretted, her hands checking him over as best as she could while still holding him tight.

Casey nodded. He was _fine_.

"For the foreseeable future," he managed to get out without either throwing up again or his voice breaking. It just sounded a bit scratchy.

"Oh, that's wonderful. I was so worried..."

He couldn't bear to hear her effusions any longer, so he tuned her out.

His eyes flickered over the people present, wondering if anyone could _finally_ tell him what the hell had happened to land Jane in the hospital with a bullet wound.

Korsak caught his eyes, seeming to understand the unspoken plea.

"Jane," the older man began, but couldn't continue. He rubbed a hand over his face, clearly emotionally exhausted.

Dr. Isles woke from whatever trance had taken her over. She straightened up a bit. "Several criminals took over headquarters after a cop was executed while undercover. They were looking for evidence, which would implicate the killer, and we were trapped there. Jane, Frankie, and I."

Casey nodded listening intently.

Dr. Isles swallowed, wiping at her eyes. "Frankie was shot twice and we had to take care of him before his lungs filled with blood."

That would explain why he hadn't seen Jane's brother around. He was no doubt in surgery, too.

"A dirty cop took Jane hostage and forced her outside, using her as a human shield," Kosak continued, finally leaving his notebook alone. "She used his own gun to kill him, only, she fired through her own body."

Somehow those words had Casey's world spinning like a carousel. He swallowed, once, twice, three times. Shock was an old friend, but he hadn't expected it in this situation.

Someone forced him onto one of the plastic chairs, pressing a plastic cup with water into his hands.

"Deep breaths, Colonel," Dr. Isles' voice came from far away.

Casey closed his eyes, hoping the corridor would righten itself. It didn't.

When he could focus again, Mrs. Rizzoli, _Angela_ , was sitting beside him, rubbing his back slowly. The crease between her eyes should not have been directed at him.

How could Jane do that to herself? Didn't she realize that they all needed her? That _he_ needed her?

Casey swallowed, trying to school his expression. If he couldn't sort out his emotions, he'd at least want to regulate what other people could read off of his face.

"She shot _herself_?" His tone came out more biting than he'd intended, but oh hell. Casey couldn't stop the wave of anger that threatened to overshadow his anguish.

Dr. Isles simply nodded, not offering anything else.

"Why?" Casey managed to croak out.

"Frankie was dying," Korsak replied, voice heavy with exhaustion. "He needed medical attention as quickly as possible and if we all had been stuck in a hostage drama..."

Well, at least Jane had had a very good reason for risking her life like that.

Casey nodded, to show he had heard, and then tiredly ran a hand through his hair. If he only could have prepared himself better for this, if anyone could have just given him a warning, he'd probably be able to better handle this shitty situation.

With a sigh, he forced himself to focus.

"She's been in and out of surgery since yesterday," Korsak continued, rubbing a hand over his beard. "There were some complications, according to the nurses Frost accosted."

The detective glared at his partner. " _I_ accosted? You were the one almost jumping down their throats."

Korsak waved that accusation off with an absent-minded air.

Casey nodded, making himself as comfortable as possible in the chair. He had a feeling he'd be here for a while.

* * *

oooo

* * *

It took a week for Jane to wake up.

In that time, Casey had figured out how to nap in a hospital chair without developing a crick in his neck. He had become an expert in determining which of the cafeteria food was actually edible (not that he cared or tasted much). He had even learned the names of the flowers sharing the rather limited space of Jane's room with him.

In his opinion, she could supply a florist's shop for at least a week with her bouquets, which had taken over nearly every available surface.

The nurses didn't even give him a second look anymore, despite him continuing to wear most parts of his uniform. (He couldn't help the fact that almost all of his luggage consisted of fatigues.)

Only when Mrs. Rizzoli, Angela, was visiting with Jane, did Casey manage to wrench himself away for a short shower in the tiny bathroom attached to Jane's room.

He was reading one of the books Dr. Isles had brought him when something finally changed.

A low groan had never sounded so beautiful to his ears.

"Jane?"

Another groan answered him.

Hope was rushing through him, not for the first time.

Then she opened her eyes. A tiny crack.

Such a small thing, but all of his prayers had been answered.

"Jane," he managed to get out, despite the smile of soul-deep relief creeping onto his face. Inwardly, he was rooting for her.

"Casey?" She rasped out.

He nodded, grinning stupidly, blinking back tears. "Yeah, I'm here."

"Oh. Good."

For a long moment, both of them just stared at the other.

"Do you need anything? Water? A nurse...?" Casey offered, hoping to actually be able to do _something_ ; he'd been feeling useless for over a week.

"Water?"

He jumped up, hastening to get her something to drink. Even if he didn't want to let her out of his sight, just yet. Or ever.

When he came back, a nurse was taking Jane's vitals and talking softly to her.

"Dr. Torin will want to look you over herself, Detective. She's just finishing up with another patient."

Casey could feel most of the tension of the last few days drain from his body.

Jane was awake. Thank God.

She reached out for his hand, instictively using her good arm.

Nothing could have kept him from taking that hand into his own, gently squeezing it to reassure her. And himself.

The doctor's check up passed in the blink of an eye. She ordered more tests to be done on Jane, just to make sure everything was healing well and like it was supposed to.

But Jane was finally declared to be out of the dangerzone.

Casey couldn't keep himself in check any longer, leaning over the bed, his free hand carressing Jane's cheek carefully. He was vaguely aware of the tender smile on his face and the fact that he was a hair's breadth away from bursting into tears.

Instead of crying or belting out a power ballad, he just chose to lean a bit closer, turning her face towards his own, and kissing her as softly and gently as he was able to.

In Casey's opinion, the day couldn't have gotten any better.

"The next time you decide to shoot yourself," he muttered against her lips, " _don't._ "


End file.
